


A Spoonful of Sugar

by terrys_chocklit_orange



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-21 07:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19369879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terrys_chocklit_orange/pseuds/terrys_chocklit_orange
Summary: When she was a kid, Harriet Dowling's favourite movie was “Mary Poppins.”





	A Spoonful of Sugar

When she was a kid, Harriet Dowling's favourite movie was “Mary Poppins.” Whenever her suburban middle-class parents started fighting again, or whenever she felt lonely or left out or just fucking sick of her suburban middle-class life, she'd close her eyes and imagine being raised by a British nanny like that, someone who was firm but fair, kind but with high expectations. She never had one, of course. Instead, Harriet's parents got divorced when she was nine, and she moved to Baltimore with her mom and her new stepdad Phil. But she never forgot. The one thing that didn't send Harriet running back to DC the moment she found out she was pregnant was the idea of having a nanny just like that for her own baby. 

She succeeded. Nanny has been everything Harriet could have hoped for, and more. Warlock was toilet trained by ten months, walking by twelve. He can read and write much better than other kids his age; he recently presented Harriet with a bound copy of “The Seven Deadly Sins”, written in his remarkable penmanship and illustrated with crayon drawings of tormented souls and laughing demons. It's a little more religious than the barely-Presbyterian Harriet might have liked, and she certainly hasn't shown it to Thaddeus, but she can't deny the skill of it. Warlock tells her stuff about animals and astronomy and world history that she double-checks with Alexa when he leaves the room, but he's always right. He's especially knowledgeable about plants. Harriet knows he spends a lot of time with the gardener, often with Nanny but also on his own. 

As per her contract, Nanny is supposed to have three evenings and one full day off every week, but she never complains if an extra state dinner or shopping mall opening or something comes up, and Harriet has to ask her to work overtime. She seems to genuinely love being with Warlock. Warlock certainly loves her. If that makes Harriet just a little bit jealous, Harriet decided long ago that's her own problem. Mrs. Banks never seemed jealous of Mary Poppins, and if she was, wasn't that a small price to pay to have a phenomenal woman like her in their lives? 

So Harriet feels very badly when the time comes to let Nanny go. She puts it off as long as possible, until Thaddeus is breathing down her neck (“For God's sake, just do it already. Warlock needs to be in that boarding school as of yesterday!”) and she has to bite the bullet. 

When she spots Warlock outside, examining a caterpillar with the gardener, she goes up to the nursery. Opening the door, Harriet immediately sees Nanny, sitting on a chair looking at her phone while Warlock's clothes appear to be folding themselves into the dresser. Harriet blinks. 

“I...”

“Oh, hello, dear.” Nanny stands up, taking one of Warlock's sweaters with her. The other clothes are in piles on Warlock's bed. Immobile, of course. Harriet shakes her head. _You're taking the Mary Poppins thing too far_ , she tells herself. _You need a nap. And a nice glass of Chardonnay._

“Hi, Nanny.” Harriet steps inside. If there's one thing that marriage to Thaddeus has taught her, it's that direct communication is the way to go. It may not always be the best way, but it is _the_ way. “Listen, I'm afraid I've got some bad news.”

“Oh? What's that, dear?” Nanny peers at her. At least, Harriet assumes she's peering. She can't tell from behind those dark glasses. 

“Warlock's getting older, and his dad really wants him to start at a boarding school back in the States.” Nanny's face doesn't move, but Harriet hurries to add, “He'll be back every summer, of course, and during the school holidays. You'll always be welcome to come visit. I know he'll be thrilled to see you whenever you have a chance.”

“Of course, dear.”

“And I'm happy to give you a great reference. You've been so good for him. For all of us. We can't even begin to thank you.” She winces. “I hope you're not too disappointed.”

“We all knew this day would come.” Nanny smiles a little. “I've done my best, dear. Let's just hope it's enough, shall we? For all our sakes.” 

“Right.” Harriet nods. The Chardonnay is calling her name. “Please, feel free to stay here until you find another job.” 

“Oh, I don't think that will be necessary.”

“A woman as skilled as you are must be in very high demand.” Harriet has considered having another baby just so she can hang onto Nanny, but that would involve having some kind of sex life.

“Actually, dear, I'm thinking of making a career change. After all, I could never hope to work with a more important child than Warlock.” 

Harriet's heart squeezes a little. “That's so sweet. Thank you, Nanny.” 

Harriet smiles as she heads back downstairs. But what else could she expect from the most practically perfect Nanny outside a Disney movie? 

***

“It has to be done, Harriet,” Thaddeus barks across Skype. “Kid needs a good American education. He's already starting to talk like that creepy ass nanny of his.” 

“She's not creepy, Thaddeus! She just has sensitive eyes.” _And she's spent a hell of a lot more time with him than you have. Than_ I _have._

“I'll have someone meet him at Dulles when he gets here. Text the flight details to my aide.” 

“Of course. And...” Before Harriet can continue, the call ends with a bloop. She sighs and takes a long drink of Bordeaux. She's about to look up the flight details for Felicia when there's a knock on the office door. 

“Come in.” 

It's the gardener. Harriet can never remember his name. “Looks like he's on the shortest branch of his family tree,” she'd overheard one of the Secret Service guys say. It's an assholish comment, but she can't deny it's true. 

“Hi,” she says. “Listen, I was meaning to tell you, those rosebushes at the front of the house are absolutely amazing. I've had a ton of compliments.” A ton might be overstating it, but the French ambassador's wife did mention them, and Harriet likes them a lot herself. You don't see purple roses too often. She wasn't even aware you could grow them, actually, and they are her favourite colour. 

“Arr, ee, thank ee, ma'am.” The gardener grins, clutching his hat to his chest. “But I'm afraid I be here with some sad news.” 

“Oh, yes? What's that?” Discreetly, she logs onto her email account and searches for the message about Warlock's flight. “If it's something to do with the garden, you can buy whatever you need. Tell Gerald you can have the AmEx.” 

The gardener looks pained. “I'm afraid that I have to be leaving you. Arr.” 

“Oh, that is too bad.” She doesn't have time to look for new staff right now, and Gerald is absolute shit at hiring. “Can I ask why?” 

“If Warlock be going away, then Nanny and I be finished our jobs here.” 

“But that doesn't affect you, surely? We're keeping the house. I'll still be here, and Thaddeus and Warlock will come back as often as they can.” 

A look of panic passes briefly over the gardener's face. His eyes search the room, as if seeking something. “Arr, aye. Well, you see, ma'am, the thing...it's that...what's happenin' be...” His eyes light up. “Nanny and I be gettin' married.” 

Harriet looks up. “Married?” 

“Arr. That's right.” Under his permanent sunburn, the gardener seems to be blushing. It's kind of cute. “So if she be going, then I must be going as well.” 

“Well, congratulations. You guys sure were discreet. I didn't even know you were together.” But maybe that's what Nanny meant by a “change in career”? She's too old to have kids of her own, isn't she? Although they are doing some amazing things with IVF these days.

“Arr,” the man replies, grinning. “Aye.” 

“This deserves a toast.” Harriet goes over to her sideboard and refills her glass, then pours one for the gardener. She passes it over and is about to say something generic, like “To the happy couple,” but the gardener beats her to it. 

“To, um, Nanny, the cleverest and most interesting and, and, and, the most attractive person I've ever known.”

Harriet doesn't mention his sudden change in accent. Accents are a whole thing over here, worse than in the States; she never gets into it. Instead, she raises her glass and repeats, “To Nanny.” She downs her drink and tries not to think about the fact that she can't imagine Thaddeus ever saying anything like that about her. 

 

***

Nanny comes to the airport to say goodbye to Warlock. He wouldn't have it any other way, and neither, Harriet decides, would she. 

“Now,” Nanny says, looking down at Warlock as they stand on the airstrip, “you just remember, you are a unique child, the most special boy in all of creation, and one day you will rise up to claim the highest power that is yours by rights. And don't chew with your mouth open.” 

“Right, Nanny.” He hugs her tightly for a long moment. Harriet thinks she sees a tear on Nanny's cheek, beneath her glasses. She looks away. Warlock gives Harriet a quick hug, too, then, just like that, he's bounding up the stairs to where Felicia's waiting for him. 

Harriet and Nanny wait until the private plane pulls up its steps and taxis away from the gate. As they arrive back in the terminal, Harriet pulls a pink-striped Victoria's Secret package out of her purse. “Here, Nanny. This is for you.”

Nanny stares at it like it's a bag of snakes. “Ah...well, dear, I'm very flattered, but I don't think you and I...”

“It's a shower gift!” Harriet puts in quickly. “I don't know if you're having a bridal shower, but I thought...I mean, it's very modest, but if you don't like it, there's a gift receipt in the bag.” It's a simple black silk nightgown. Nanny doesn't strike Harriet as the “corset and stockings” type, but you never can tell. Harriet didn't even know she was dating anyone, let alone someone in the house. 

“My...bridal shower?” 

“Yes.” Harriet knows they have them here. She went to one for a minor member of the Royal Family. They drank cocktails with penis-shaped straws and played “pin the dick on the movie star” with a real movie star. “The gardener,” and here, she really wishes she could remember his name, “told me you're getting married.” 

“He said what?” For a moment, Nanny's voice is markedly different, almost masculine. Thaddeus once made a comment, not phrased quite as politely, about Nanny perhaps being a transwoman. Harriet replied he could kiss her ass and pack his bags if he thought that would make Nanny any less of a blessing to them. He never mentioned it again. 

“That you're getting married. That's why he's leaving at the same time as you.” Harriet frowns, confused. “Aren't you?”

“Ha ha!” Nanny's old voice returns. “Of course! Of course we are, dear. He's right, that's the perfect excu...reason for us to leave together. I just didn't realize we were sharing the news. The news of our marriage. Which is absolutely happening. Soon. Can't wait.” She clears her throat. “Out of curiosity, how did he, ah, how did he sound when he told you about it?” 

“How did he sound?” Harriet remembers the gardener's strange slip in accent. 

“Did it seem like it was maybe something he was looking forward to, or....”

Harriet smiles. “He called you the smartest and most attractive person he's ever known.” 

Nanny looks stunned, like she didn't expect that. _Maybe_ , Harriet thinks, _all men suck at relationships._ “He's obviously very proud of you,” Harriet adds, because it doesn't seem like he's ever told her that himself. 

“Right. Okay, then. Thanks for the gift!” Nanny takes the package and toddles off down the concourse. 

“Wait!” Harriet is going to offer her a lift home, but she doesn't stop. When Harriet arrives back at the house, all of Nanny's things, and all of the gardener's, are already gone. 

***

Since all of Warlock's friends are at his boarding school in Vermont, the guests at his eleventh birthday party are the children of the local upper-class, some fellow diplomats, and a couple of politicians Thaddeus thinks are worth impressing. Not that this shitty replacement magician is anything close to impressive. 

“I thought Felicia was getting a last minute mobile video game arcade or something,” Harriet hisses.

“What?” Thaddeus grunts. He hasn't looked up from his phone since the party began. Harriet doesn't, in fact, think he's looked up from it since he arrived back in England. 

Harriet shakes her head. There's something strangely familiar about the magician, and something even more familiar about the rent-a-waiter in the sunglasses who's standing staring at him. Of course, Harriet must have met every waiter in the south of England by now. God knows she goes to enough cocktail parties, tea parties, lunch parties, garden parties, dinner parties...

When the food starts to fly, Warlock looks like he's actually enjoying himself for the first time since he got home from Vermont. A glob of frosting hits Thaddeus' phone, but he wipes it off and keeps texting. She has to admire that kind of dedication, she guesses. The shitty magician and the rent-a-waiter leave together. Harriet doesn't say anything, even though the waiter's presumably being paid to stay for the entire party. _At least_ , she thinks, _somebody's getting some around here._

When Warlock comes by, his clothes stained and laughing with the other kids, she says, “Hey, honey,” without knowing how she's going to finish that sentence. Warlock stops and looks at her. “Remember your old nanny?” She doesn't know why that comes to mind. She had hoped Nanny would pay them a visit, at least the first time Warlock came home from school, but they never heard from her again. 

“Yeah.” Warlock smiles. There's cake in his hair. “She was so extra.” 

“She was.” Harriet finds herself looking upwards, as if she might really see Nanny floating by on a flying umbrella. Instead, she hears some asshole, probably the rent-a-waiter, blast Queen and tear off down the driveway. Harriet stifles a sigh and goes to find a drink.


End file.
